


Broken Vows

by isisisatis



Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisisatis/pseuds/isisisatis
Summary: An unfortunate discovery is made.





	Broken Vows

PROLOGUE  
\----------------  
  
  
Wordless, because how could words ever be enough to excuse his  
behaviour, he drew Marcus into his embrace and held on tightly. Again  
and again he whispered, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." A mantra to  
keep him from thinking too much, from breaking down. Yet it was no  
help. His guilt and relief were too much and slowly but inexorably his  
breath began to hitch during his incantation and soon he started sob  
soundlessly. Could Marcus ever forgive him? Had he now really lost  
what he never wanted to lose in the first place? Had he destroyed  
their trust, their respect and their love for each other?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 1  
\----------------  
  
  
Thud, swing and step.  
  
A weapon cluttered to the floor.  
  
Easy. But better than expected.  
  
He looked along the pike, aiming for his opponent's throat with one  
end, locking eyes.  
  
Neroon blinked at the familiarity of the situation despite the eyes  
being rather of a light brown than green. But he recognized the same  
defiance, the unwillingness to give up even in defeat. And just like  
then, he withdrew the weapon.  
  
But that was where all familiarity ended and Neroon extended his hand  
to help his opponent to his feet again.  
  
To be honest, he was impressed by the warrior. Neroon at once had  
noticed the young man, when he had walked by for a boring inspection  
of new recruits - but honestly, what else should he do during his  
husband's extended absence?  
  
The young warrior was a first-year cadet - though quite old for a new  
recruit - but his fighting was already vastly beyond what his class  
mates managed. And being of a similar diminutive frame of body, he  
possessed a comparable swiftness, stayed in constant, evasive movement  
like Marcus.  
  
Only few warriors had integrated those new movements into their  
traditional - speak conservative - fighting techniques, although  
Marcus was training here often and sometimes even gave instructions.  
This cadet however was one of those few, and he was even physically  
able to apply most of Marcus' manoeuvres.  
  
After some time of watching, Neroon noticed, although the cadet was  
superior in his fighting skills, the cadet/he still had much to learn.  
Neroon had felt compelled and challenged to submit a lesson.  
  
And he was bored and would have used any feeble excuse to escape.  
  
Neroon had stepped on the mat, extending/presenting a wooden training  
staff in greeting and was met with endearing shyness instead of the  
cockiness that Marcus had displayed/demonstrated during their first  
encounter.  
  
He had taken on the warrior, carefully fending off the attacks, trying  
to gauge the true potential. When the strikes became surer, less  
hesitant, Neroon had started to truly fight back. But since he had  
more experience in general and even more experience with the mobile  
style of Marcus, he had no problem whatsoever to hold his own against  
this opponent. And then he started to brake through the other's  
defenses bit by bit, showing him the inadequacies in a gentle but firm  
way.  
  
And suddenly it had ended with almost entirely the same moves as the  
Denn'sha.  
  
It was unsettling, this familiarity and yet the obvious difference.  
Deliberately breaking out of his reminiscence he spoke, "Well done,  
Cadet...?"  
  
"Cadet Morann, Alyt," the young Minbari answered with an unnecessarily  
deep bow.  
  
"... Cadet Morann. Continue with your practice."  
  
Interestedly, Neroon continued to watch the practice, now also paying  
attention to the other recruits. But his gaze kept drifting back to  
Morann, to the young warrior and his graceful litheness.  
  
***  
  
The next day, he was surprised, when - or better where - he met the  
young man again.  
  
A cadet on the bridge was not a common occurrence! But since he was in  
the company of the chief engineer, his presence on the bridge was  
probably justified.  
  
Neroon watched his chief engineer explain something, pointing several  
times towards the screen and then the chief and the cadet started to  
work in tandem. Highly unusual.  
  
"Faade'Na Jenimer, a word with you if you will."  
  
"Aye, Alyt."  
  
"How does it come that you bring a cadet to the bridge?"  
  
"Morann may be only a cadet, but he already has two degrees in  
engineering. He reconsidered his calling and only recently joined our  
forces."  
  
"Ah, he's the engineer you insisted to get your hands on. I had not  
remembered his name. I hope he turned out as promised?"  
  
"Definitely, Alyt. Although he has slight problems to adjust to the  
strict hierarchic structure of the Warrior Caste. He's former Worker  
Caste and is used to work in more equal environment, only bowing to  
greater knowledge and not higher rank."  
  
Neroon chuckled. "He will learn, Faade'Na. And as long as he is not  
obviously disobeying orders..."  
  
"No, but he tends to independency, doing more what's necessary than  
what has been ordered. I think a rise in rank in a few months would be  
beneficial and justified. He's definitely command material."  
  
"Send me his files and recommendations." The progress reports would  
show if the cadet was also good enough in other respects to legitimate  
an early promotion. "Dismissed Faade'Na." It almost seemed as if he  
had been played, he thought amused. A cadet on the bridge was sure to  
draw the captain's attention.  
  
The chief engineer saluted, returned to the cadet and the two left the  
bridge again.  
  
Hmm, nice backside.  
  
***  
  
After his shift ended and he had transferred command to his First  
Officer, he found himself pacing the living room of his quarters. He  
was at a loss what to do. He had tried reading, he had tried music, he  
even had been desperate enough to clean up the files on his private  
computer console.  
  
He missed Marcus.  
  
It had been a month already since his beloved had left the Ingata for  
a diplomatic mission. It was only supposed to last for two weeks but  
this new race seemed totally disregarding of schedules. So far there  
was no noteworthy progress in negotiations. It was questionable when  
Marcus would finally return.  
  
And now he was alone and fidgety and horny and he missed Marcus.  
  
It hadn't been that bad last week. But by now, it was quite annoying  
to just sit here and wait for Marcus to call him.  
  
If he called at all.  
  
He didn't even have Torann at hand to redirect his frustration and  
vent his displeasure because the aide had accompanied Marcus as his  
guard.  
  
He paused and glanced at the clock.  
  
Maybe…  
  
Maybe he would pay the training salle a visit. Since it was only  
logical to provide Cadet Morann with an appropriate opponent - which  
made Neroon a logical choice - he would try and see if he could get in  
another sparring match with Morann. It had been quite enjoying to  
fight with the cadet and he wouldn't mind getting to know the young man  
better, once he had read his files. Morann definitely had potential.  
  
***  
  
"Neroon! Finally. Where have you been yesterday? I tried to call you  
several times."  
  
Having enough of waiting for your call like a good, unoccupied wife!  
Out loud he said instead, "I'm sorry, I was held up."  
  
"Whatever." Marcus almost fell into his word. "Look, I don't have much  
time and I desperately need a reference. I don't remember it fully and  
was unable to find it but I know where I stored it on my computer.  
Could you send it to me?"  
  
"Of course. Anything else?" Neroon asked with accentuated calmness. He  
had only been missed as a means to send a file?! Why hadn't Marcus  
bothered somebody else?  
  
"I'll be home in two days! We will arrive with the next commuter  
shuttle." Marcus turned away from the screen and called, "Just one  
more minute, Torann! - Listen, I have sent you instructions to access  
my computer and to find the file. I have to run, now. Bye! Love you."  
  
It said and severed the connection.  
  
Neroon sat there for a moment, blinking in incredulous lack of  
understanding. In this case he had preferred not to get a call at all.  
Even if Marcus should really be coming home this time.  
  
Did he deserve this disregard? Couldn't Marcus have used his short  
time to assure him his imminent arrival, reaffirm his love, state how  
much he missed Neroon? He remembered a time where that had been the  
case, where each however short call had been used to confirm their  
deep feelings for each other. When had they lost that? When had they  
exchanged intimacy for business?  
  
Angered, Neroon looked for Marcus' message, memorized it and strode to  
Marcus' office with clipped steps, repeatedly shaking his head. Again  
Marcus had forgotten an important file and because his aide Sorell had  
accompanied him, Neroon had to suffer the consequences. It hadn't  
happened the first time and it probably wasn't the last. Sometimes  
Marcus was just too scatter-brained with paperwork and not even his  
aide was able to prevent all mishaps and `supervise' the compliance of  
all due-dates for applications, reports or requests. Administration  
was just too slow for his whirlwind of a mate. Marcus would always  
wonder when something reappeared he had thought long since a closed  
affair. Marcus probably would never get the hang of a desk-job; he was  
too much a man of action, always with his head five problems ahead of  
the one he should be currently working on and of course he insisted to  
do everything himself. It had been a pain to make him at least accept  
an aide. Luckily Sorell finally got the blessing and had been helping  
Marcus tremendously.  
  
Even if he only managed that Marcus' office no longer looked like the  
result of a hurricane, Neroon noticed approvingly when he stopped  
short in the door frame. Although Sorell had already been here for  
three months, Neroon hadn't seen the results of Sorell's work in the  
office. He usually avoided to disturb Marcus during work. Too much  
temptation at the wrong time.  
  
He eventually stepped into the room and walked over to the work  
station, surveying the room. There was a neat stack of print-outs on  
one side of the table, a data pad resting on top. Former compositions  
of twigs and yellow leaves had been replaced with healthy plants. And  
nowhere was seen a used mug or dirty plate. A vast improvement. He  
could well remember a time when the cleaning personal refused to even  
set one foot inside the room, stating that it was a health hazard.  
Marcus had spent about three days to sort out the mess and clean the  
room himself. This had been another reason to never enter Marcus'  
office. It just wasn't any fun to even try to have a tryst during the  
day. Now this might need revision.  
  
  
There even was a couch in here? That was new, wasn't it? Or had he  
just never seen it?  
  
A nice big couch, Neroon noticed.   
  
He definitely needed to pay Marcus a visit in the future!  
  
Despite his anger at Marcus' attitude towards him, Neroon was looking  
forward to have his husband close again. Sleeping alone felt always  
strange, even after a lengthy separation. Especially after a lengthy  
separation. Although he had to admit, the first week he had welcomed  
the silence when Marcus was absent. He had been so used to being  
alone, that it felt like slipping into comfortable, worn robes. It was  
easy to resort to old, familiar habits.  
  
Sighing in resignation, Neroon turned back to his task, sat down and  
switched on the computer system. He entered the password and the ID  
for the encoding, luckily found the requested file where it was  
supposed to be and opened the messenger program to send the file to  
Marcus.  
  
  
###  
Marcus,  
Here is the information you asked for. Good luck with the meeting and  
don't annoy too many delegates. You've already proven enough that you  
are the `biggest PITA of the known universe' (Garibaldi's *repeated*  
words, not mine), don't piss off the other part as well.  
I await your return and pray for your safe and scheduled arrival.  
  
N.  
###  
  
  
He jabbed the send-button and silently ground out, `Have fun with it!'  
  
He was about to shut down the computer, when he noticed that a new  
message had arrived. But strangely enough it didn't appear in one of  
the main folders. Marcus once had told him, that he sorted the  
incoming transmissions in only three categories. This one showed up in  
neither. Curious he went on the quest for the missing message.  
  
Finally he found it in a sub-folder named `Other'. It was titled `T-2  
days'. Frowning, he opened it.  
  
Read it.  
  
Read it again.  
  
And wished he had never opened it.  
  
All the blood drained out of him, he was nauseous, his head started  
to spin and his ears were suddenly deaf with a loud roar. His eyes  
were unbelievingly glued to the screen, to those unimaginable words,  
words like sharp, cutting knives.  
  
  
###  
My brave warrior!  
Soon we will be joined again. I know you will read this as soon as you  
return. Those words will greet you while I'm still absent. I'm looking  
forward to your tellings from home, I will even enjoy listening to  
your recounting of business events only to hear your voice. My ears  
have been thoroughly missing your sweet sounds, as my lips have missed  
your sweet touch.  
  
I enfold you in my embrace and send you thousands of my warm kisses.  
  
Your Zha'aia  
###  
  
  
valen. valen. --- valen.  
  
NO!  
  
NO!!!!  
  
He started to shake. Uncontrollably. Unavoidable.  
  
It just couldn't be!  
  
The roar in his ears had accumulated to a blocking white noise and he  
noticed the slow darkening of the room. By now he only saw the glaring  
light of the display with those vile words until even they were  
obscured. Desperately he clung to the console, his hands numb and  
slippery.  
  
Shock.  
  
Shock? How could it be shock? He hadn't been injured.  
  
`Of course, not,' a voice whispered, `Only your heart has been ripped  
to shreds by mere words.'  
  
Mere words, devastating words.  
  
***  
  
He didn't know how long he just sat there, trying not to disintegrate  
with pain.  
  
Then he burst into desperate action. This had to be a mistake, a joke  
from a friend, a misrouted message, anything! Frantically he opened  
and read random files only to find his first suspicion confirmed.  
  
Marcus had a lover.  
  
A whole relationship, even! Where did Marcus find the time for it?  
Neroon hadn't noticed anything, no suddenly or even gradually changing  
schedules or working hours and their love life still had honeymoon  
quality.  
  
Though really thinking about it, their time together had shortened  
considerably. Each of them being engaged in their professions and  
their responsibilities, sometimes pursuing their own enjoyments, they  
often would only meet in bed. And not necessarily in the desired way.  
  
But Marcus still was very much besotted with him, despite their  
enforced separations.  
  
Wasn't he?  
  
Neroon didn't know anymore. Didn't know anything. How long has this  
already been going on? Right under his nose? On his ship! The  
impertinence!  
  
His Marcus. Marcus.  
  
Breathing hurt, why did breathing suddenly hurt so much? Each heart  
beat had to be forced from his body. What should he do?  
  
Marcus.  
  
Why?!  
  
`Calm down and think,' the voice ordered.  
  
Suddenly enraged, he shot up from his seat, devoided the table of its  
content with one forceful sweep, sent the chair tumbling against the  
next wall, flung one of the potted plants on the floor and... suddenly  
ran out of options to violate the interior decoration.  
  
Feeling a solid, burning cold settling into his mind, Neroon  
mechanically switched off the console and left the room in  
disarray/shambles/chaos.  
  
***  
  
The pain of betrayal was even worse the next day. It cost all his  
strength to go through the daily routines. At midday, he finally gave  
in and withdrew to his office, informing the staff that he was only to  
be disturbed for an emergency.  
  
Like the return of the Shadows. Or the end of the universe.  
  
But since the Shadows had left and his universe had already ended,  
neither one posed as a real emergency in his frame of mind.  
  
After about ten thousand rounds of agitated pacing, Neroon left his  
office determinedly and returned to ground zero.  
  
Once there, he straightened the havoc he had caused the day before.  
Then, with a heavy heart, he sat down at the computer terminal. He  
felt his pulse speed up at what he was going to do.  
  
Clenching his jaw, inhaling deeply and releasing a shuddering, painful  
breath he activated the computer and saved the compromising  
correspondence on a crystal. Clutching the crystal tightly in one  
hand, he went back to his own office. From there he could  
inconspicuously read through the letters again and at least try to  
find out who Marcus' lover was, what had been going on and how long.  
  
Perched on his chair in nervous anticipation, Neroon sifted through  
all messages, carefully extracting and noting information. After three  
hours he closed the last file.  
  
Nothing!  
  
There was nothing that revealed the identity of the lover. Only that  
he was male and that the whole affair started about several weeks  
back. All the messages were vague in the extreme, revealing hardly any  
personal information. Only `undying love' was sworn sickeningly often.  
  
If only he could lay hands on that swine, this fiend, this coward!  
They could have honourably fought for the right of Marcus' attention.  
But this thief was just stealing Marcus' heart from under his nose.  
  
He was seething. If he would get hold of this lover, this Other, he  
would kill him. With bare hands. Breaking every bone in the swindlers  
body so that the sharp points of fracture would pierce painfully  
through the skin, crashing his scull against the floor until it burst  
open like rotting fruit, spilling its deceitful contents uselessly on  
the floor. And even after death he would dishonour the mangled body,  
putting it on display for everybody to see what happened to traitors.  
Then he would deliver the body to Minbar, throwing it into the sea to  
have its flesh travel through the digestive system of fish and birds  
and be returned as animal excreta. Yes, that sounded like a really  
satisfying plan.  
  
But he would never put it into action at a single word from Marcus.  
  
He would have released the Ranger from their vows, had Marcus ever  
mentioned he wasn't satisfied and happy in their relationship  
anymore. He wouldn't have forced the Human to stay with him. Even if  
it would have broken him just as well and thoroughly.  
  
But this sneaking behaviour was disrespectful! Especially from Marcus  
he would have expected honesty. But if the other one made Marcus  
really happy? If Marcus really loved the other one? What should he do?  
Neroon still loved Marcus with his entire soul - his whole id - and  
was not inclined to give up his chosen one.  
  
`Fight,' the voice provided.  
  
Yes, he would fight! And since he didn't know the opponent, he would  
fight for Marcus' love. He would show his husband how deep his  
feelings still were after all those years.  
  
And he would watch Marcus closely. Maybe this way the traitor could be  
identified. And then he might still extract his revenge in a more  
direct way and confront him!  
  
Or better the other way around.  
  
***  
  
When Marcus' transporter arrived, Neroon was already waiting at the  
entrance of the hangar. Meticulously, he scanned the visible area. So  
far he hadn't noticed anything out of the usual, only busy personal as  
far as he could see. No lurker.  
  
Well, except him.  
  
Although it was hard to tell. Since this was a regular shuttle flight,  
there were dozens of people waiting to board the ship once the current  
passengers had left it.  
  
And there was Marcus.  
  
But...! What...?  
  
Oh. It only was Torann who had an arm around Marcus' shoulder.  
Irrational, irrational! he scolded himself. First, the last message  
indicated that Marcus' `paramour' wasn't with him, second, it  
definitely wasn't Torann! It just wasn't.  
  
While the trio of two Minbari and one Human in the middle walked  
towards his position, he kept watching them closely.  
  
Torann was urgently talking to Marcus with a beratingly raised finger.  
Marcus' head was slightly bowed but he was occasionally glancing at  
Torann or at his aide Sorell. What was that about? His mate didn't  
look particularly happy.  
  
After Marcus had nodded, albeit reluctantly, Torann gave the Human a  
hard hug and shoved him towards the exit, winking at Neroon. Then  
Torann ambled towards the elevator, dragging Sorell with him.  
  
Since Marcus still hadn't looked up, Neroon finally called his  
husband's name to draw his attention.  
  
"Marcus."  
  
The Ranger jerked to a halt, obviously caught off guard. "Neroon!"  
  
Marcus sounded surprised and disbelieving.  
  
Surprised was to be expected because it had been a while since Neroon  
had received Marcus at the hangar. But disbelieving? Was it really so  
unusual to welcome him home as soon as he set foot on the Ingata?  
  
"What's the matter? Has anything happened?" Marcus brow was creased  
with worry.  
  
"No, Am'sheal," Neroon at once reassured. "I just missed you." This  
was not going according to plan. He hadn't intended to worry his mate  
with his actions. He had thought Marcus would be pleased and would  
come and greet him with a kiss. But he had to make the best of it.  
  
`Show Marcus that you still care.' Yes, thank you. Great advice,  
voice. What did it think he would do?  
  
"That's a relief! I really don't need any more problems on top of the  
ones I already have. This meeting was sheer horror." Marcus visibly  
relaxed, though Neroon could still see lines of tension in his face.  
Now that he was paying extra attention.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Neroon answered and gently took the suitcase  
from Marcus' grasp. "Would you like to eat something while you tell me  
more about it?" `Careful. Don't overdo it.'  
  
"I don't know. I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I should take a look at my  
correspondence in case something important has turned up..."  
  
Correspondence.  
  
Neroon felt how his face froze into an impassive mask. Dammit, Marcus!  
"Leave the messages until tomorrow. If it had been so important that  
it couldn't wait until tomorrow, they would have initiated a direct  
vid connection. Now, what would you like to do?"  
  
"Fine. And could you maybe let me first come home before bothering me?  
I already told you, that I'm tired. I'll probably just go to bed.  
Hopefully that'll also get rid of my headache."  
  
Marcus really didn't make it easy. So far, he had done nothing to  
appease Neroon's fears.  
  
They travelled the remaining corridors in silence and Neroon had time  
to calm down, to suppress his suspicions and act the caring lover and  
husband.  
  
So, Marcus was tired and had a headache. It probably wasn't  
unimaginable that he was a little short-tempered. No reason to worry.  
  
Yet.  
  
`Just keep observing him closely. Nothing is lost. Be patient and woe  
him as if you weren't already married.'  
  
At their quarters, Neroon attentively let Marcus enter first,  
deposited the suitcase next to the door and helped Marcus out of his  
cloak.  
  
That earned him a "Thank you," and a questing gaze as Marcus noticed  
the set table with candles and all. "Did I miss something?"  
  
"I just missed you and wanted to welcome you home. - So, welcome home,  
Da'cal." Neroon spread his arms invitingly for an embrace.  
  
"Sweet." Marcus smiled, came over and melted into his embrace. "And  
sorry. I'm still so caught up in the whole mess because I discussed  
options with Torann and Sorell on the entire way back. Torann already  
berated me to forget everything until tomorrow. I got really worked up  
over this...mess."  
  
Then Marcus kissed him. A sweet and lengthy saying-hello kiss.  
  
Marcus sighed as their lips parted. But instead of moving away as  
Neroon had feared, he slung his arms around Neroon's waist and leaned  
the head against his shoulder.  
  
This felt so normal. As it should be. Then why did the tender warmth  
in his chest suddenly turn to a consuming, churning dread?  
  
"How does a bath sound? I need somebody to keep me from falling asleep  
and drowning."  
  
"Of course. Do you need anything else?" Neroon didn't even know how he  
had managed to speak around the constriction in his throat.  
  
"Would you prepare a plate with something to eat? I'll run the bath in  
the meantime."  
  
So normal. They'd done the same so often that the distribution of  
tasks was a routine.  
  
"Of course, Marcus. I'll join you shortly."  
  
Neroon went to the tiny kitchenette and put several small snacks on a  
plate, carefully paying attention that most of them were Marcus'  
favorites. He also prepared some tea and placed it next to the plate  
and some cups on a tray.  
  
When he entered the bathroom, he was greeted with the herbal scent of  
the bathing oil and by his half-undressed mate. A still pleasant  
sight, especially since Marcus had gained some padding on that bones  
with the continued pampering. He really loved that added softening and  
never understood the Human's complaints about his weight. Marcus was  
nowhere going near fat! It was more like seeing a gangly kitten mature  
into a beautiful, strong feline. Just...beautiful.  
  
And again his guts burned with the fear of potential loss.  
  
The splash of water and a heartfelt sigh from Marcus brought Neroon  
back to reality.  
  
With extreme care as not to betray his turmoil, Neroon placed the tray  
on a bench next to the tub. Then he undressed and slid into the water  
behind Marcus.  
  
Neroon's feelings were slightly appeased, as skin touched skin and  
Marcus instantly, comfortably moulded into the usual curves of his  
form. Marcus literally snuggled up to him, even taking Neroon's arms  
to wrap them around his torso. Partly wet hair brushed over Neroon's  
chest, some strands clinging to his skin.  
  
Because Marcus had complained about a headache earlier, Neroon began  
to gently brush through Marcus' hair, massaging the scalp underneath  
and drawing firm circles at the temples. Slowly the remaining tension  
vanished from Marcus' face, making way for a content smile.  
  
After a long while Marcus opened his eyes again. He slightly turned  
around and claimed Neroon's mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue  
effortlessly teasing and soothing, tantalizing and inviting, gliding  
in and out between their mouths. Oh, yes, Marcus was a good kisser and  
they sometimes could spend an eternity like this without craving more  
than the resting touch of limbs and the unhurried movement of tongues  
and lips.  
  
As the kiss slowed down, Neroon opened his eyes and was surprised to  
find Marcus' green gaze already resting upon him. ...And what else  
could it be than utter love that was shining at him?  
  
How could that be? How could Marcus look upon him like this when he  
allowed to be wooed by another?  
  
With a seemingly unsteady hand he cupped Marcus' cheek, cherishing the  
feel of soft beard on his palm. "Love you. Love you so much." So much  
it hurts.  
  
Marcus' gaze never wavered nor changed the expression of love when it  
was joined by a big smile. "I love you, too."  
  
***   
  
Several days after Marcus' return, Neroon decided to surprise his  
husband and kidnap him for a shared lunch.  
  
It was an excuse to see Marcus during the day, as well as check up on  
him unannounced. Although the latter one sat in his stomach heavy like  
lead and writhing like hyperspace whirls.  
  
He was betraying Marcus' trust.  
  
But he had to find out! Had to see...to understand.  
  
He still couldn't grasp the discrepancy. The loving letters of the  
Other who implied equally strong feelings being returned and Marcus'  
absolutely normal behaviour. Neroon hadn't found anything to lay his  
fingers on; no strange gazes, no avoidance of presence, conversation  
or touch. How could Marcus accomplish that?  
  
He growled in annoyance. And at once schooled his features. He  
couldn't barge into Marcus' office in a furious mood. Couldn't let  
Marcus see his anger, his fear. Not yet. Not when he still doubted his  
findings. He was sure Marcus still felt for him.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he entered Marcus' office.  
  
Empty.  
  
Well, he could wait.  
  
He glanced around and let his gaze wander. The carefully cleaned room  
had regained some of its former ‘cosiness’. There was a cloak  
carelessly thrown over the arm of the couch, a sleeve trailing on the  
floor. A nearly empty cup sat on a side table. Another cup was on the  
desk, sitting next to a plate devoid of anything but crumbs. A messy  
stack of papers sat in front of the computer terminal.  
  
Which was activated.  
  
Tempting.  
  
Casually slowly he made his way over to the desk. He probably should  
spare himself the mental anguish to read more of the horrid vows of  
love and desire and shared intimacy. But he still had to know, had to  
know what was going on, what was planned, what had happened. He still  
needed to find out the Others identity. And he needed to stake his  
claim on Marcus. He would show the Other that Marcus already had a  
partner and a strong relationship. A partner who just wouldn't budge  
when threatened; not when there was still the chance that Marcus loved  
him.  
  
Determined, he opened the subfolder containing the correspondence.  
Three new messages since Neroon had last had a look.  
  
  
###  
*snort*  
  
KissKissKiss  
###  
  
  
Very revealing. Very ridiculous. On to the next.  
  
  
###  
My beloved warrior,  
  
Don't fear, he's still oblivious, I assure you. I haven't drawn  
attention to us and I won't pressure you into telling him. You have  
all the time you need. And once you are prepared, I'll be by your  
side. You really have nothing to fear.  
  
Our last meeting has brought me great joy, despite its shortness. Let  
me know when you'll be free again; I yearn for your presence.  
  
Yours  
###  
  
  
`Virtual kisses just weren't the same as real ones, were they?' Neroon  
thought spitefully.  
  
And then he opened the last message.  
  
  
###  
My Ker'Shan,  
  
I'll meet you for lunch at the usual place. I'll bring some sweets.  
  
Your Am'Sheal  
###  
  
  
Jackpot! That was for today. Let's see if he could interfere with  
those plans. Yes, that was probably the best way; at least for his  
psyche. If he couldn't persuade Marcus to spend lunch with him, he  
could still try to find out who the Other was. A pleased smile started  
to spread over his face, when suddenly the door opened and Marcus entered.  
  
Entered happily chatting with a shift officer and leading him into the  
room with a hand at the small of the other's back. Neroon was proud  
when he kept his wits about him and quickly closed the open files on  
the computer instead of strangling one of his weapons tevla who was  
now on the top-list of suspects.  
  
"Alyt." He ignored the tevla. `Tevla Mazik,' the voice provided  
annoyingly.  
  
"Neroon! What are you doing here?"  
  
Again there was surprise in Marcus' voice. But neither guilt nor  
distress or upset. He watched his mate closely and noticed a slight  
narrowing of the eyes. Suspicion? Ups, Marcus probably had caught him  
closing the files and just refrained from calling on him because of  
the tevla. `Don't try to explain yourself, that's just as suspicious.'  
This voice sometimes was really annoying. As if he didn't know anything!  
  
"I thought to come over and ask if you would like to eat lunch together."  
  
Marcus raised an eyebrow at him and then turned to Mazik. "Mazik, I  
think we'll have to continue our chat some other time. Just drop by  
and we'll see if I can make some time. And keep me informed about your  
nephew's decision."  
  
"Of course, Marcus. Good day. - Alyt."  
  
"Tevla Mazik."  
  
They all bowed politely, though Neroon kept his gaze on the tevla in  
case any silent signals were exchanged before the tevla left.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Which didn't have to mean there was nothing going on. Maybe they just  
were careful.  
  
Once Mazik had left, a seductive smile spread on Marcus' face and he  
came over to Neroon for a kiss. Absolutely toe-curling.  
  
Distracting?  
  
Truly felt?  
  
Whatever. If Marcus was here with him, he wasn't with the Other.  
  
"Hey, you. The last time you came here was before my  
three-day-spring-cleaning. It's a nice surprise. Now, what was that  
about lunch?" Marcus' arms had found their way around Neroon's neck  
and fingers were teasing down the back of his shirt, following the  
manifold memorized cerulean patches. An involuntary shiver ran across  
Neroon's skin.  
  
"I just thought we could have lunch together. It's been a while."  
  
Marcus' brow creased in thought. It was just as endearing as it had  
been the first time. Neroon stroked his thumb over a prominent crease  
and simply smiled when Marcus batted his hand away.  
  
"Stop that. I have to think and reschedule or cancel some meetings.  
How about 1300?" Marcus wriggled out of his embrace, went over to his  
computer and instantly started working busily.  
  
Slowly, Neroon prowled over to him and leaned against the table near  
Marcus. `Don't give him a chance to cancel his `date' in case it  
wasn't Mazik.' "How about at once?" He kissed Marcus on the neck, just  
behind the ear. Which actually was playing dirty. But who cared? He  
was trying to keep Marcus, so everything was fair to secure that result.  
  
"Ah, to hell with it. I'll just call Sorell and let him do the calls."  
Marcus' eyes had closed and he had been leaning into the touch. Now he  
straightened his clothes to make his call to Sorell.  
  
"Sorell, could you reorganize my timetable and free me for one hour  
from now on?"  
  
"Of course, Marcus." Sorell sighed. He looked just as unhappy as he  
sounded.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sorell. And thank you."  
  
Success! That was almost too easy. But Neroon felt triumphant; Marcus  
was with him and seemed absolutely happy where he was.  
  
Which was right on the very couch in Marcus' office where they just  
made good use of it.  
  
Take that, bird droppings!  
  
***  
  
He had just finished brushing his teeth and wanted to go to bed, when  
he caught his own gaze in the mirror.  
  
It had been a while since he had really looked at himself and thought  
about how others perceived him.  
  
Of course he looked older. So did Marcus. Some silvery strands had  
sneaked into the dark hair and lines of laughter had finally erased  
that of worry. Different, but very much his beautiful beloved.  
  
His own face still looked much the same, there were no significant new  
wrinkles. But the blue of his cerulean patches... hadn't it once been  
brighter, more defined from the surrounding skin? They seemed to  
slowly blend in with the paleness of his complexion.  
  
And his bone crest! Hadn't it been farther back just a little time  
ago? If it was growing more to the front, he would soon look like 130  
instead of 89!  
  
Slowly he turned his head from right to left to get a good glance at  
the rest of his bone crest. Well, mostly fine. Very fine indeed. But  
wasn't Marcus complaining that there were some rugged and sharp edges?  
  
"Neroon, you coming?"  
  
Oh, there! He stroked along the jagged rim of bone. It was indeed  
sharp enough to tear skin. He even remembered when that had happened.  
A very vigorous sparring match with Torann where he had moved in an  
unanticipated way and Torann wasn't able to pull the blow soon enough.  
The blow had almost given him a concussion and definitely a headache.  
  
Why was it that he hadn't taken care of the damage to his bone crest?  
As a warrior it was ingrained in him to take care of his body. An  
incomprehensible neglect.  
  
Tomorrow, tomorrow he would go to the on-board cosmetician and bone  
crafter to see what he could do. At the very least he would have his  
bone crest smoothed out. Maybe even slightly re-carved?  
  
Maybe that was part of the reason why Marcus had looked at someone  
else. A relationship meant hard work: mindfulness of a partner’s needs,  
the willingness for compromise and the ability to argue with  
understanding. But obviously he had forgotten and neglected one not  
inconsiderable part: his appearance. At least he was still in good  
shape and training. If he had to get rid of some additional weight and  
regain muscle... he didn't even want to think about the effort! But he  
would have done it for his mate.  
  
"What are you doing so long in there, Neroon? Did the slippery soap  
manage to trip you? Or did your menacing toothbrush get the better of  
you?"  
  
Had Marcus already called? He sounded quite impatient. Quickly he left  
the bathroom and joined his husband in bed.  
  
"No, it was the evil drain that wanted to suck me in. It was quite a  
struggle, but in the end your superior warrior was able to escape."  
  
Marcus chuckled, gave him the usual good-night kiss and snuggled up to  
him.  
  
"Good night, Neroon."  
  
"Good night, Marcus."  
  
***  
  
###  
If you were just here, my Marcus, I would show you this beautiful  
planet. The vibrant colour of its water masses reminded me of your eyes  
and I longed to share this moment with you. What do you say, would you  
like to meet me later at the observation dome for some stargazing? We  
would be alone.  
  
My love and kisses,  
Neroon  
###  
  
  
Maybe this just sent message was not as romantic as the Other's were;  
he always had been better at showing and talking than writing. At  
least when it was a serious invitation for a rendezvous in starlight.  
But he really tried.  
  
He waited for Marcus' response, thumping his fingers against the  
table. What would he say? Was it too sappy? Would an evening alone in  
the dome even be appreciated? Maybe Marcus would rather stay in their...  
  
There already was the answer. That was quicker than he had expected.  
He just had to open it and read it.  
  
  
###  
Hmmm, sounds lovely. I'll meet you there at 2000. And please, please  
bring something to eat (some `real' food!). I won't have the time to  
get something before our meeting.  
###  
  
  
Brilliant! Another slap in the Other's face. But it was rather late,  
even for Marcus. Usually he tried to get out at 1900 the latest. Hm.  
  
  
###  
Hugs and kisses  
Marcus  
  
P.S.: By the way, *this* kind of mail is all right. The other ones,  
let’s just say, Sorell always could tell by the grade of my blushing  
what you have written. He has become quite accurate at guessing. And  
now try to figure out this one: ( )*(x). Just so you know what I'm  
expecting later *g*.  
###  
  
  
Huh? Ok, assuming that `x' was still standing for a kiss...Where would  
Marcus want that kiss?  
  
Oh.  
  
Oooooooh.  
  
He would do that! And more.

 

 

CHAPTER 2  
\---------------  
  
  
"Neroon, I think I'll cut my hair. Maybe I'll even shave my beard.  
What do you think?"  
  
No! Um, what kind of question was that anyway? He liked Marcus just  
fine as he was.  
  
"I'm looking so hopelessly antiquated, stone-agey even!" Marcus added.  
  
Ok, it was about fashion. They never talked about fashion. Where did  
this new interest in fashion stem from? His new lover?  
  
Anger suddenly rose in Neroon and he vehemently stated "No! I don't  
want you to change anything." Especially since he had done exactly  
that: to slightly improve his appearance for Marcus.  
  
Uh, well, maybe that had come across as too forceful and demanding,  
because Marcus looked at him quite perplexed and a little shocked. "It  
was just a thought, no need to give me a tongue lashing. I just  
thought I'll try something different. But if you don't want me  
to...then no impressing the ladies!"  
  
Ladies? Ladies! Maybe he hadn't found anything because it was a female  
lover. He had only kept close tap on the males. Stupid! You know he  
once had been in love with Susan.  
  
"Anyway, it was you who started to care about appearance, so I thought..."  
  
Start thinking Neroon! The letters were obvious that it was a male!  
Somehow his brain seemed to stop working when he was jealous of the  
Other. That was in no way acceptable. He had to be rational about it,  
even though feelings were involved.  
  
"Neroon? Neroon!"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You were lost in thought again. You seem to do that quite often  
lately. What's on your mind?"  
  
`You, always you,' Neroon thought bitterly and had a hard time not to  
shout it at Marcus.  
  
Without looking back, he quickly left the room, feeling Marcus' eyes  
on his back. He had to get away before he did something stupid. Like  
forcefully staking his claim or beating the shit out of his husband  
out of unreasonable anger.  
  
***  
  
Pleased, Neroon placed the final insignia on the last of several  
promoted warriors, among them Morann. It was a duty he appreciated and  
hated at the same time. There were strictly guided rituals for  
promotions which hardly allowed to award the individual in recognition  
of their talent and duty and honour.  
  
But now the pleasurable part would start: the reception with good food  
and drink and the mingling of officers and lower ranks. It was a good  
opportunity to get a feel for the ship's crew in its entirety and get  
reacquainted with some warriors he only seldom saw or spoke to. And  
despite its formal rituals the gathering afterwards was just as  
informal. The lower ranks knew this and of course shamelessly enjoyed  
it in the fullest.  
  
After the last chord of the harps and chimes had died away, those  
present left for the observation dome. Neroon offered his arm to  
Marcus and they followed the mass of warriors.  
  
"Renonn's promotion was long overdue. He needs the money for his  
family. They have badly suffered during both wars and have  
difficulties to regain their standing. I hope the raise of his salary  
and the special bonus will be wisely invested," Marcus quietly  
remarked with a proud smile, as if he had been personally responsible  
for Renonn's promotion.  
  
"I have no doubts in this regard. If Renonn hadn't been as good with  
money, his family wouldn't nearly have the amenities they still have.  
They would be off far worse even with official support," Neroon answered.  
  
"How much longer until this last war's adverse effects will cease to  
be of importance? It's been eight years!"  
  
"Don't fret, Marcus," Neroon tried to lessen his husband's regretful  
compassion. "Overall, the situation on Minbar has improved greatly.  
It's only some few families that struggle with their losses. They  
eventually will regain their footing with our help. But you also know  
that too much interference, especially with warriors, only would cause  
those families great distress and shame."  
  
"Yes, yes, and I also know the statistics. But I know some people  
behind the numbers. That's what keeps me cursing this war. Personally  
I have gained more from it than I lost. And that seems always so wrong  
when I get to know people who lost their families, their homes, their  
savings, their jobs, their health or just their sleep. They earned it  
as less as I earned it to get about everything I always had only hoped  
for. This is...just...unfair."  
  
"What was your philosophy about the unfairness of the universe? Sorry.  
Forget about it. I know what you mean. Though it really isn't helping  
anyone. Try at least to cheer up a bit. We have reason to celebrate."  
He gave Marcus' hand a slight squeeze. "Would you like to eat or drink  
something?"  
  
"Not hungry," came the miffed retort.  
  
`Hm. A little irritable, are we? Might that have anything to do with  
the fact, that you weren't able to meet with your lover because you  
were forced to spend time with your husband?'  
  
Not that Marcus' behaviour had left anything to be desired. They had  
made love almost every day, spent their scarce quality time together  
talking, eating, reading, sparring, visiting friends, go for a walk or  
simply being in each other’s presence. Even a little more than they had  
for several months actually. The idea to convince Marcus to accept an  
aid sure had been one brilliant tactical move.  
  
He was only sorry for Sorell today. If Marcus had been anything like  
this all day... It wasn't fun to even be in the same room with him.  
And who knew how many aggravated officials there had been to appease?  
Poor Sorell!  
  
"I'll just sit down over there and try not to look like a party  
pooper," Marcus said casually. Too casually. And then he tried to make  
an escape.  
  
Neroon barely managed to get hold of a fold from Marcus' cloak.  
  
"No, you don't. You can't, you know that. Come, Ah'mala," he pecked  
Marcus on the lips and slung an arm around his waist. "We'll do the  
rounds together and then we'll leave at once."  
  
That got him several enemies with just one strike of the denn'bok.  
First, with good luck, the Other would also be around and would just  
see how close Marcus and he still were. Second, Marcus would leave the  
party with him. He would make sure of that. And third, he showed  
respect towards Marcus' wishes. Which would hopefully put him into  
Marcus' favours.  
  
Valen, did he feel manipulative. Which surely wasn't an appreciated  
sentiment.  
  
They made their rounds, starting with congratulating Morann. Neroon  
had taken the young Minbari as a protégé after having spent some time  
with the cadet, and was supporting him to find a place among the  
warriors. Neroon only hoped that the fast promotion wouldn't be seen  
with distrust and envy. But since Neroon had gotten the impression  
that he was generally liked and was perceived as not fitting his rank  
even among his peers (he was just ahead of them because of his age and  
experience), it shouldn't pose a grave problem. Especially because  
Neroon had not yet taken a protégé who hadn't been worth it and that  
was well-know.  
  
Marcus only reluctantly followed Neroon's lead. He seemed absent, was  
constantly glancing around the room and towards the exit and was  
barely joining the conversations.  
  
Neroon quickly finished the congratulations before Marcus' impolite  
behaviour could be perceived by others and then took his leave.  
  
If Neroon hadn't still kept an arm around Marcus waist, the Human  
would have rushed from the room in unnecessary haste and once the door  
closed behind them, Marcus stepped from his side.  
  
What was the matter?  
  
"Marcus? What is on your mind? You seldom are rude without sound reason."  
  
Marcus sighed and shrugged. "I'm feeling a little irritable today."  
  
"Any particular reason?"  
  
"Well, not exactly. I just woke up and was in a bad mood. - Morann is  
a nice lad, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes, indeed. I'm convinced he will quite soon become a chief engineer  
on his own ship. He even has mastered the basic training without much  
trouble, despite originating from the Worker Caste. He has the  
fighting experience from a voluntary service as vigilant. It's  
admirable. We can count ourselves lucky that he made the deduction to  
join the Warrior Caste. Maybe he'll even participate in the  
improvement and design of engines."  
  
"You are quite taken with him."  
  
Only now did Neroon notice Marcus' intent and the narrowed eyes. This  
was ridiculous! Was Marcus jealous?  
  
"Marcus, I have taken him as protégé. Of course, I have an interest in  
him. A professional interest," he emphasized, barely restraining his  
aggravation.  
  
"You haven't spent this much time with your other protégés."  
  
Neroon frowned. "I haven't?" He hadn't noticed! Why hadn't he noticed?  
It had been his intention to pay attention to Marcus, to guess his  
wishes, to court him, to win him back. It wouldn't work if Marcus was  
jealous!  
  
"You haven't. Because you always train with Morann, we haven't sparred  
together since forever!" Marcus displayed a badly concealed restraint  
of anger.  
  
"Sorry. I hadn't noticed. We could go to the training hall now,"  
Neroon offered. He seriously hadn't noticed his neglect. But then, he  
was getting a decent work-out which was getting quite similar to one  
with Marcus.  
  
"No."  
  
"No?" Neroon had considered the problem solved. It seemed Marcus  
hadn't because he didn't deign him with an answer and mutely continued  
to their quarters.  
  
***  
  
"Alyt? I'm sorry to call you again. Marcus wanted me to inform you,  
that he won't be able to join you for your dinner."  
  
"Thank you, Sorell. Do you know when Marcus will be finished?"  
  
"I don't know, Alyt. Marcus didn't relate where he went and therefore  
I'm unable to estimate a time frame."  
  
This was already the fifth time in two weeks that Marcus let himself  
be excused by Sorell in such a feeble way.  
  
Coward!  
  
But there was no anger this time, only despair at the realization that  
Marcus seemed to slip through his fingers like water despite all his  
efforts.  
  
Feeling nausea rise at the sight of the ready-to-eat dinner, Neroon  
disposed of it on the spot.  
  
***  
  
Ok, so today Marcus made it for dinner. Only bad luck for him that  
there hadn't been prepared any this time.  
  
And despite Marcus being `at home' for the moment, Neroon still felt  
as if spending the evening alone.  
  
His husband had only a uttered a quick `Hello,' had slapped together a  
sandwich as soon as he had come home, and since then had sat before  
the computer console, doing who knows what.  
  
Unable to bear the slight, Neroon went to bed far too early, staring  
sightlessly at the walls and then pretending to sleep when Marcus  
joined him only shortly later.  
  
***  
  
Diligently, he suckled on the head of Marcus' cock, only barley  
teasing with his tongue. Which was quite teasing, because  
they had already started this time’s lovemaking about three quarters of  
an hour ago. Accordingly understandable was Marcus'  
restless and desperate movement under him. It had to be bordering on  
torture for his mate by now.  
  
Yes, he was literally restraining Marcus with his own weight, to keep  
him from thrusting his hips in order to get more of the moist heat  
around his erection. But of course, it was not helpful to continue to  
squirm like a captured fish. Neroon wasn't inclined to release his  
hold and wouldn't let himself be removed from his position.  
  
In contrary, the more Marcus moved around, the more complete became  
the restraint. So far, it had only been the legs and the hips, which  
Neroon had kept immobile with one of his own legs, almost straddling  
him. It was exhilarating to feel Marcus' hot skin slicken under him,  
making it a challenge to keep a grip on the shifting muscles.  
  
Neroon couldn't see Marcus face without releasing the twitching flesh  
from his lips since he had his back turned to Marcus. But he could  
guess what he would see: the blush now spreading over the entire face  
down the neck to the hollow of the throat where a purple love bite was  
even standing out from between the red, the green eyes would be  
scrunched shut because of the restraint and sometimes a tip of tongue  
would dart out to moisten lips dried from panting.  
  
It probably was a good thing he didn't see it. His member was getting  
all too eager from the vision alone.  
  
Since Marcus now had repeatedly tried to urge him on by guiding his  
head with both hands or tease him mercilessly with fingers on  
well-known hot spots, he captured the roaming appendages in a firm grip.  
  
That only elicited a mischievous chuckle from Marcus, which Neroon  
almost missed because it was instantly drowned by continued moans.  
  
And then Neroon knew why Marcus had chuckled, this had become a game  
now. Neroon teasing Marcus, Marcus teasing Neroon. And the only option  
for Marcus was to use a feature he had always made good use of: his  
mouth.  
  
Neroon had expected everything from begging, pleading, demanding,  
praying to insulting, and requesting, even incoherency. But not  
talking dirty. It wasn't something Marcus usually did. Disjointed  
babbling yes, open, descriptive, detailed pornography no. Now Marcus  
used his talent to talk Neroon to orgasm.  
  
Neroon tried to silence the definitely heating words with a slightly  
intensified suckling and the application of more movement from his  
tongue.  
  
It did nothing to cease the descriptions, only underlaid them with  
aggravation, well-placed, arousing moans and pants.  
  
Since it would be uncomfortable to place his second hand over Marcus'  
mouth, he decided on a different method to keep the clever mouth busy.  
  
He rapidly turned around and shoved his own hardness into Marcus' open  
mouth. He could have bet, that exactly this had been Marcus'  
intention. And agonizing, muffled laughter around himself, supported  
his theory.  
  
And he also realized that it had been a mistake to give Marcus control  
over his need. Marcus just possessed a too clever tongue!  
  
He groaned around the smooth flesh filling his mouth when Marcus  
pressed a broad, soft tongue against his erection and started to rub  
it all over the place. Neroon felt a steady stream of pre-cum trickle  
out of his slit and onto Marcus tongue.  
  
But at least he had achieved now what he had tried all the time:  
Marcus had stilled under him, only his mouth, tongue, throat, even  
teeth interacting as a perfect means of  
driving-Neroon-crazy-in-retaliation-of-drawn-out-sexual-frustration.  
  
By Varenni's Spear!  
  
He faltered for a moment when Marcus flicked his tongue along the  
underside of his member and rasped it over the sensitive glans with  
just a little suction.  
  
Neroon breathed deeply through his nose and closed his eyes to centre  
himself.  
  
`And here we go again,' he thought, when Marcus started to wriggle  
once more. His beloved just couldn't stay motionless. But by now,  
Neroon didn't mind nor care when Marcus struggled a little upright and  
pressed him down, so they both lay more or less on their sides, which  
allowed Marcus more freedom to move up and down on Neroon's erection  
and provided Neroon with the use of his hands.  
  
Their reciprocal teasing was long forgotten and Neroon earnestly set  
to pleasure Marcus, brushing his hand over the hairy chest, searching  
for a nipple to squeeze, while he hollowed his cheeks and slowly,  
slowly travelled down on Marcus cock until he felt more hair tickle  
his chin.  
  
Satisfied he noticed that Marcus' lower leg frantically moved over the  
sheet as if grappling for support and the upper leg ended up over  
Neroon's shoulder, almost as if trying to get even more into Neroon's  
mouth than just his penis. Neroon was even more pleased, when his own  
cock slipped teasingly from Marcus' lips and the hand tightened around  
it as if needing something to hold on to and he heard a low whimper  
before Marcus managed to lunge back at his salvia-slickened hardness  
with a vengeance.  
  
Marcus not only attacked his erection, but also rolled his tight  
balls, stroked over his hole without penetrating, rubbed his butt --  
which he particularly liked -- and Neroon felt his cock jerk at the  
light touch.  
  
And then he really noticed his mistake to assume/adopt/presume this  
position because he suddenly and unexpectedly felt the traitorous  
tingle announcing the point of no return.  
  
And he came; unavoidably and reluctant.  
  
Damn, Marcus knew him all far too well. He hadn't wanted to come down  
Marcus' throat, he had just thought to get each other quite needful  
before once again slipping inside the perfectness of his Marcus. Why  
had Marcus made him already come?  
  
"Neroon!!!!!! Please..."  
  
Marcus' cry for release and the frantic thrust of hips brought him  
back from his unbefitting thoughts. Dutifully, he resumed to pleasure  
Marcus, stroking the dark penis with hand, lips and tongue until  
Marcus exploded in his mouth. And left behind bitterness.  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not again. It had already been  
several days - a week? - since he last made real love to Marcus, had  
felt enclosed by the velvety tightness, came inside him.  
  
Because Marcus had turned him down a few times.  
  
No, that was not entirely right. He hadn't been turned down that  
often. Although he had noticed that Marcus had made excuses a few rare  
times not to engage in anything more than kissing and cuddling. Like  
the one time when Marcus had truly been tired and had fallen asleep on  
the sofa shortly after dinner. At other times, Marcus had only managed  
to give their intimacy a different direction; he had led Neroon to -  
admittedly satisfying - orgasms before any penetration had taken place  
and even without Neroon initially noticing that he was about to come.  
Just like now.  
  
Why?  
  
He began to suspect, that Marcus no longer desired him this way. Maybe  
he wanted to only have such a deep connection with this new lover of  
his... The last letters were obvious enough how much both lovers  
enjoyed their... fornicating.  
  
"Hmm, `tis `s nice," Marcus yawned.  
  
Neroon watched him get comfortable and instantly fall asleep.  
  
How could he look so happy, even in slumber?  
  
Why wasn't this betrayal eating him up from the inside like it did  
with Neroon?  
  
***  
  
He was on his way from their quarters to the bridge at the beginning  
of his shift, when he heard it.  
  
"Have you seen? Mazik is socializing with Marcus quite often. Do you  
know what's going on there?"  
  
Neroon at once was rooted to the spot.  
  
"No, but I've also seen them once or twice together. I only hope  
Marcus told the Alyt."  
  
"Why?"  
  
A humourless chuckle. "You know Lertonn? Ask him. He'll tell you in  
detail how he ended up in a sparring match with the Alyt which ended  
in the infirmary. For Lertonn. Only because he had innocently spoken  
to Marcus at length during one of the gatherings. The Alyt is quite  
`protective' of his husband."  
  
"You mean he easily becomes jealous."  
  
"Yes, that, too."  
  
That was the last he heard. Obviously the two crew members had stepped  
into the elevator around the corner.  
  
Mazik. Again.  
  
But he still had no proof. In contrary, some appointments didn't add  
up. In the correspondence there were times mentioned where Mazik was  
supposedly on duty; he had checked. He should have gotten informed by  
now, if Mazik left his post frequently.  
  
And yet he had noticed that sometimes even Sorell didn't know where  
Marcus went or why he was late. And there certainly was no need that  
Marcus met with Mazik on a professional basis. Not that often!  
  
Yes, Mazik was still a possibility, especially since he hadn't come up  
with any other options.  
  
But to be seen in public? Were they getting careless? Was Marcus ready  
to confront him and leave him eventually?  
  
***  
  
"Neroon. This show of public affection really begins to annoy me.  
Everybody knows we are a couple, happily married for six years. This  
unfounded possessiveness really starts to make me uncomfortable. And  
what is it with this permanent horniness? I'm just as sore as during  
our honeymoon. It's not a problem if you can lounge in bed all day  
with an ice-cube between the cheeks, but it is not acceptable for  
work. And the healers only remark was: just lay off the sex for a week  
and give it a rest. I was trying to do that but you scarcely accept a  
`no' at the moment. It's becoming a major inconvenience. We may be  
married but we are no Siamese twins joined at the hip and mouth. And  
now leave me in peace."  
  
***  
  
"Out!" he bellowed as soon as he barged in the training salle.  
  
While the majority of the present warriors just froze in a lack of  
understanding, those who met his furious gaze, at once hasted towards  
the exit in self-preservation.  
  
Not thirty seconds later the door slid closed behind the last warrior  
and he instantly extended his pike and swung it with all his force and  
quite artless against the nearest object with an enraged scream.  
  
Since it was one of the dummies, the impact resulted in a rather  
unsatisfying `thump'. He kept attacking it savagely to act out the  
unimaginable rage in his heart. He was beyond conscious thought, only  
had to get rid of this feeling inside unless it burst out of him  
leaving nothing but a shell.  
  
He turned from the heap of padding and metal, ripping down several  
weapon stands, accentuating each thundering crash with a pained roar.  
  
The resulting racket didn't even register with him; he only was aware  
of the rush of blood in his ears and the silent screams inside his skull.  
  
Panting from exertion and unreleased emotions, he tossed his pike  
against the wall, shoved a trolley with mats so that it tipped over  
and then randomly tossed the scattered mats separately through the room.  
  
Wildly looking around for another target, he noticed the havoc he had  
caused.  
  
He dropped to his knees, sweat-soaked robe limply clinging to his  
chest and back.  
  
Suddenly he was drained, empty.  
  
He was...  
  
The situation with Marcus was unbearable, unacceptable, no longer  
under his control. He was reaching his limits and it was getting worse  
instead of better. Despite all his efforts, Marcus had yet again made  
excuses for this evening.  
  
Marcus was slipping through his fingers.  
  
That was when his temper had reared its ugly head. He was sick of  
listening to those excuses, sick to have Sorell call him because  
Marcus supposedly had not yet returned from one conference or other.  
He hated it when Marcus returned so late that the Human just dropped  
into bed, already more asleep than awake. Hated it, *hated* it!  
  
He picked up his pike again and started to atomize the shreds  
cluttering the hall.  
  
"NEROON!"  
  
The reprimanding bellow let him freeze in mid-strike.  
  
Torann.  
  
The only one who would dare to approach him in such a situation  
besides Marcus. It was possible, that one of the crew members had  
called the guard to prevent any serious damage. He could approve of  
this action although he had no intention to talk to Torann.  
  
"Neroon?"  
  
Defiantly, Neroon resumed his task to reduce another dummy to  
Rihaty-sized kindling.  
  
"Neroon! What is the matter? If you can't talk to Marcus, maybe I can  
be of help. Tell me what's wrong. What's happening between the two of  
you?"  
  
"Leave it alone, Torann. This is between me and my husband. I do not  
require your meddling."  
  
"Neroon, if you so much as just rise a hand against Marcus..." The  
threat didn't even need to be finished.  
  
"Me? Hurting Marcus?!" Neroon snorted an incredulous laugh, noticed  
without much emotion the dumbfounded expression on Torann's face,  
collapsed his pike and left.  
  
***  
  
`out, out, out!'  
  
`out! ...out, out!!!!!'  
  
His mind's screams reverberated and echoed in their mental  
confinement. And yet he had not moved to leave the room he shared with  
his husband. There was still a part, that prevented his leaving.  
  
Around 0300 he gave up pretending to sleep and ignore the constant  
assault of doubts. He just couldn't do it anymore, couldn't bear it to  
be in the presence of such betrayal.  
  
He fled to the main room, to the kitchenette and found himself gulping  
down a glass of water. Not that it helped any with the painful  
tightness of his throat or the suffocating pressure lasting on his  
chest and he gulped in the air as he had just done with the water.  
  
It was a wonder he hadn't mixed up the both and got the water down the  
wrong tube.  
  
Not even his desperate try at self-humour helped to suppress the  
murderous and violent fantasies playing out in his mind.  
  
Too much, this was all too much! The pretending, the suspicions, his  
own cowardice not to confront Marcus...  
  
He leaned heavily against the counter, arms painfully rigid to keep  
the shaking under control, the head bowed low to counter act the  
threatening darkness. Hyperventilating just wasn't a smart solution to  
his problems.  
  
His breath was too close to hitching on almost every difficultly  
gained breath, wheezing through the confinements in almost sobs.  
  
This was torturous! Would he even be able to get through this? Would  
it be possible to even physically survive without Marcus, should they  
officially separate?  
  
"Neroon?"  
  
He jerked violently at Marcus' sudden appearance. He hadn't... of  
course he hadn't paid attention.  
  
"Bad dream?" Marcus was now standing so close that their sides  
slightly touched and he rubbed a hand across Neroon's tense shoulders.  
  
Neroon only closed his eyes. It was a reasonable assumption. Each of  
them had suffered from nightmares during the years, legacy of their  
violent history of survived wars. Nightmares! Not really. Mostly it  
*just* was a replaying of the past, the appearance of ghosts.  
  
It also was a ghost this time, the ghost of failure, of Marcus'  
slut/hussy/trollop tantalizing him to primitive, frenzied madness.  
  
Guilt?  
  
"Wanna talk?"  
  
"No."  
  
Which was as clear a sign for Marcus to leave as he would ever get. It  
had taken a while for Marcus to accept Neroon's way of dealing with  
his dreams. Because Marcus in contrast needed to talk, needed to be  
reassured. Neroon preferred to be alone with his thoughts. Only after  
a few days distance would Neroon give Marcus at least a small insight  
in what had haunted him.  
  
Which really proofed advantageous in this case, because with a parting  
kiss to his shoulder, Marcus instantly left without further question.  
  
Shit, shit, shit...  
  
`Already resorting to profanity?'  
  
Fuck off, voice.  
  
`No, not really. I only fuck with your head. Or your head fucks with  
you, or you fuck with your head... and you definitely fuck Marcus...'  
  
Profanity! he gleefully told the voice.  
  
Which suddenly went awfully quiet.  
  
Which wasn't that desirable either, because the silence allowed the  
former despair and rage to creep back again.  
  
He spent the rest of the night on the couch, not sleeping, battling  
even more ghosts.  
  
***  
  
"What the hell are you accusing me off? What's the matter with you?  
You've been behaving so strange for the last month. It is a wonder I  
haven't admitted you to a therapist! And now suddenly I'm the problem?  
You certainly have delusions of the weirdest kind."  
  
"You have been behaving differently first! So, don't turn the words  
back on me. You can't talk yourself out of this one. I have watched  
you and have come to certain conclusions. It's your own fault if you  
have been found out. You should have been more discreet, more careful.  
I really wonder why you have been so sloppy. Do you think I'm a total  
moron?! Because I know you could have deleted all traces. You have the  
right training to work undetectably on a computer system. Because that  
was what drew my attention. Not initially your behaviour, that came  
later. But in the end, it all fitted. You betrayed me! In the worst  
kind possible. How could you, Marcus, how could you?"  
  
***  
  
Marcus' face fell. This was not one of their ordinary spats. He saw  
the deep hurt in Neroon's eyes, saw the usually warm brown mist over  
with held back tears.  
  
What was happening here?  
  
Puzzled he looked at Neroon for any clue. But instead of the still  
expected fury- and rage-blazing eyes, he was met with the slumped  
posture of his mate, eyes full of deep hurt and... accusation?  
  
"This *is* serious." Marcus sat heavily on the bed when the  
realization hit him *how* serious.  
  
***  
  
"You finally notice that?" It was meant to sound snide, but  
unfortunately his nose was clogging up with tears. "500 years ago,  
infidelity still was heavily punished among the Warrior Caste, 1000  
years ago even with death by fire. Loyalty and faithfulness in a  
marriage between warriors have always been the basic maxim. There  
didn't need to be love, there didn't need to be passion. It seldom was  
about money or power. But blind trust was of the essence. That's what  
I still believed in. I don't expect you to understand this principle,  
you are only a Human, but you finally managed to destroy this belief.  
And my believe in you. And even worse, the belief in myself."  
  
Neroon knew he was lashing out in the fullest, not really caring  
anymore what was in his way, if Marcus was even listening or if Marcus  
even cared to listen. He wondered why he had waited so long to finally  
confront Marcus. He hadn't wanted it to be true, he had thought his  
love would finally bring Marcus back to him. If he only showed him  
enough that he still loved his Human. His Anla'shok. His.  
  
His no more. Blindly he stared at Marcus, unable to draw his gaze away  
from the face of his beloved.  
  
"In... infidelity?" Marcus croaked nearly inaudible.  
  
"What did you think cooing at persons other than your husband is called?"  
  
"I've never as much as even looked at `persons other than my husband'!  
From what paranoid part of your mind did that idea spring from? I  
can't believe you are even considering such a silliness, no less  
telling me in the face. It's incredulous. Outrageous! Dumb."  
  
It was strange. He had expected Marcus to explode and deny. But that  
his usually hot-headed `husband' delivered the words with calm  
rationality and the last word even with this sweet affection... was  
disconcerting. Something felt absolutely horribly wrong just now.  
Betrayal from a third party? Somebody who was envious, who still hated  
Humans? His mind was still grasping at straws, at reasons that his  
Marcus hadn't...hadn't...  
  
But all this correspondence. The behaviour! A third party wouldn't be  
able to influence Marcus' behaviour to this extend.  
  
Now he became infuriated at Marcus’ act of innocent pretence. He was  
beyond hurt.  
  
"Will you still lie to me in the face of written evidence?" He grasped  
Marcus by the front of his robe (oh, Valen! He had almost gone for  
the throat, he couldn't *kill* Marcus!), pulled him to his feet and  
dragged him to the Human's office.  
  
Once there he uncaringly tossed him in the chair in front of the  
computer console and opened the section for correspondence. After only  
few steps he had all the files of suspicious letters listed on the  
screen.  
  
"Just open one of them and tell me you don't have an affair."  
  
He noticed with deadly calmness how Marcus' hand shook when he reached  
to open one of the inconspicuously named documents.  
  
  
###  
My most revered and beloved warrior,  
  
I have missed you today. Of course, I knew you were busy otherwise and  
yet to have even once heard your voice would had eased my suffering.  
You could at least have called me shortly, a recorded message at  
least. I'm sorry I'm making such a fuss but we haven't had a silent  
moment together for an eternity as it seems. I miss to feel your touch  
on my skin, your fiery green eyes undressing me before your hands  
follow in action. I miss your kisses, so hot and deep like the core of  
the sun and just as life-giving.  
Let me know when we will be able to meet again.  
  
Yours forever.  
###  
  
  
Good, that was one of the more obvious messages. It should be clear  
now that denying was pointless.  
  
"Neroon, I want you to sit down over there and not move until I have  
sorted out this mess. And if you dare to move just one inch, I'll  
clobber you a good one over the head. Because I certainly have nothing  
whatsoever to do with this...this... whole caboodle. How can you even  
begin to get such an idea?"  
  
Neroon was stunned speechless.  
  
First off, he considered it impossible that his mate would still deny  
an affair with provided evidence. Marcus wasn't a coward, he would  
have stuck to his new lover if there really was the kind of love  
involved as it was sworn time and again in the letters. Sickening,  
really. Second, Marcus' voice contained a certain concealing  
steeliness that masked a hurt similar to his own.  
  
He almost obeyed Marcus' command without thinking and was already  
half-way across the room before he remembered, Marcus was way more  
experienced with computer systems. Maybe…! Maybe…?  
  
"I'd rather watch what you are doing."  
  
"Knock yourself out," Marcus mumbled, already busy typing commands on  
the console.  
  
Mutely, Neroon took a chair and sat down beside Marcus to look at the  
screen.  
  
He understood only half of what Marcus was doing, even if he had been  
able to see everything as quickly as Marcus was working.  
  
"OK, whoever did this, is good. I can't trace anything. Neither from  
where the messages came from, nor where answers where sent to. But the  
letters have definitely been sent to my account and were able to go  
through security measures. - Now, that leaves us to go through all  
messages and try to find anything out from their content. Besides me  
having an imagined, illicit affair."  
  
"How goes this Human proverb? Quot erat demonstrandum?"  
  
"Which would be quite wrong in this case. Because then it would  
already be proven that I didn't take part in this correspondence. And  
I don't think we - or better you - reached that point."  
  
Neroon didn't answer. Only because he wanted to trust in Marcus  
telling him the truth, his heart was not yet convinced. He still hurt  
and felt betrayed. Not even the death of Branmer had pained him to  
this extend. Analytically he stated, "Only you and I have the  
password. And not even I know it all the time since you change it  
almost weekly. So, who would be good enough to crack it every week?  
And there are almost daily letters."  
  
"It's not only the password. I also change the encoding every other  
week. Do you even know how much sensible…" Marcus stopped abruptly,  
his eyes wide.  
  
"What? Did you find anything? Please…" `Please, please, please give my  
heart the proof. It's tearing me apart.'  
  
Intently he watched Marcus activate the comm-unit. "Sorell? Could you  
come to my office for a minute? It's important."  
  
"What do you need Sorell for?"  
  
Marcus rolled his eyes. "He always has my passwords. He is doing half  
of my correspondence. Here in this room. At my desk. `nough said?"  
  
Neroon glanced at his mate, still doubtful.  
  
"He is a warrior. He *has* green eyes. And I think we would find even  
more evidence if we looked through the other messages. This has been  
going on for several months! Why did I never notice? And why didn't  
you say something?"  
  
Weary, Neroon leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. Could it  
really be so easy? His mind was too focused on Marcus' deception that  
he couldn't remember if it could have been Sorell all the time. "I've  
only found out about two months ago."  
  
"Only?! This has been festering for two months?" Marcus sighed with an  
expression of sorrow.  
  
Neroon thought this action would convince his heart of the truth but  
there was still this gnawing, insistent feeling of doubt and he  
lowered his head. `Like the sea lapping at a sand castle. It could  
only but crumble under the continued assault.' Becoming poetic, voice?  
  
Only moments later Sorell entered the room, at once excusing himself  
when he saw them together.  
  
"It's fine, Sorell. Could you come over here and have a quick look at  
that?"  
  
The sharp indraw of breath and a furious blush was evidence enough.  
"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again. I accept whatever disciplinary  
actions you deem appropriate."  
  
"Why did it happen in the first place? Why didn't you use your own  
computer console?"  
  
"It was one of the few possibilities to deliver and receive  
long-distance messages. - I sent them piggyback. And I spend most of  
my time here anyway."  
  
Sorell, not Marcus.  
  
And he noticed something else: long-distance calls but also present on  
the Ingata. There weren't that many candidates who left the Ingata  
regularly.  
  
"Selner!" he roared. "I'll kill him. This time I'll really kill him.  
This Minbari causes nothing but trouble. He'll bring me to my early  
grave one of those days. I will transfer him to the rim of the known  
universe, to the mother of a hell-hole of out-posts where he will  
slowly die of boredom. I will degrade him, openly humiliate him and  
strip him bare of his dignity. I'll…"  
  
"Thank you, that's quite enough, Neroon. Sorell, you may go now. You  
are confined to quarters for the rest of the day. Further disciplines  
will be discussed tomorrow."  
  
"Yes, sir," a quite crushed aid answered, saluted and left tensely.  
  
And suddenly it got through to him: Sorell, not Marcus.  
  
Once it was hitting home, relief washed over Neroon with overwhelming  
strength. It was just like falling in love again with Marcus, just as  
powerful and staggering. Wondrous.  
  
Wordless, because how could words ever be enough to excuse this false  
accusation, he drew Marcus into his embrace and held on tightly. Again  
and again he whispered, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." A mantra to  
keep him from thinking too much, from breaking down. Yet it was no  
help. His guilt and relief were too much and slowly but inexorably his  
breath began to hitch during his incantation and soon he started sob  
soundlessly. Could Marcus ever forgive him? Had he now really lost  
what he never wanted to lose in the first place? Had he destroyed  
their trust, their respect and their love for each other? Why did he  
ever have to be so easy to be suspicious? Then it would never have  
gone this far. Or curious; then he would never have opened those  
messages.  
Why did this have to happen?  
  
  
  
The End  
Omnio fieri possent (Seneca)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Answer to Tanathir's challenge and a plotbunny that wouldn't have seen the day of light without her (because the plotbunny was there before, but I would never have done anything about it, so say thank you to her :-)).  
> A/N2: Thanks to Shira for serious plot advice and Shadowship for a bit of beta. Though all mistakes are my fault because of late changes and such.


End file.
